


Slice of life

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: Disjointed, unrelated Ignoct randoms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy XV and all of its content is property of Square Enix.** I just like to play in the sandpit they've created for the fans.

A mumble by his shoulder as a forehead drops to it, voice slurred and raspy from the lingering threads of sleep wound 'round his body.  Hand clasping on the jut of his hipbone, calloused and warm and Ignis remembers when those fingers were cold and still under the frantic, grasping press of his own, when that tangled riot of hair was limp and tacky around Noctis's face, smearing blood when he tipped his head up and swept it back, when he braced the weight of a heavy body and shook slack shoulders, _"come back, Noct, come back!"_ a desperate cry over and over.

Breath on his neck, the shell of his ear, pulling a shiver up his spine equal parts ticklish and haunted from when it stopped -

"Come back to bed, Iggy," Noctis says, soft as a feather's trail on his skin, and he's powerless to resist the call, the invitation to burrow back into a mountain of blankets and curl himself around his lover, hold him close until the morning sun and its reminder that they made it, against all odds, a silent dare for the gods to come calling and snatch him away in the dead of night.  Not again, never again, he won’t allow -

The city in slumber is stolen from view when the quilt is dumped over his head and Noctis pitches his full weight into his back and Ignis stumbles forward a step or two, startled and laughing at the _whine_  of protest.

“Or we can just stay here and I’ll use you as a mattress.  That’s totally cool.  But sleep, Iggy.  Seriously.”

He turns, then, shadowed nightmares wilting as he tucks his face into Noct’s neck and breathes him in, alive and whole and there.

_He’s not going anywhere._


	2. Chapter 2

Unforgiving rock scraping his hand through every torn crack of leather from the scuffles with daemons so far, the unnatural _chill_  sucking the very memory of warmth from his skin until he’s certain he’ll freeze like this, a lost and hapless statue left as a warning to any others: you will die here, you will die here, **you will die here turn back now**.

Footing is treacherous, cuts upon bruises upon plenty more bruises, muscles stiff and bones screaming and he’ll crawl out of here if he has to, this hellish place, this nightmare fashioned by the Lady Shiva herself, infested with daemons and pitfalls and so much ice it’s a wonder he can even stand upright at all.

A hand on his arm, soft warmth following its path down to his wrist, his hand, his fingers, and he chances a glance over his shoulder to find Ignis watching him, concern in the pinch of his mouth and furrow of his brow, and he smiles, just once, just to see its mirror image cut through the glimmering, frosty _bullshit_  of this place.  Ignis squeezes, a lick of heat sinking under his skin again and through his bones, and he sighs in relief for that tiny gift, magic fleeting but treasured and coaxing out hidden reserves of strength.

_We’re almost there_ , that gesture says and Noctis takes a breath despite the icy splinters it nestles into his lungs, straightens his spine and squares his shoulders.  They’re close to their goal, and when he has that fucking weapon he’s going to ram it up every single daemon’s ass on the way back out to sunlight’s safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy am I glad I made this dropbox for randoms. Saves me needing to think of a title and summary for this one haha!

A kiss on the cheek when they’re children, soft and fleeting like the brush of a butterfly’s wing, just for the warm puff of laughter and Noctis squirming away from him complaining of slobber.

A kiss on his forehead after the daemon attack, when he is so small and pale and frail in the swamp of bed and black sheets, exhausted by the ravages of pain and sickness.  Trailing his fingers through sweat-damp hair and sweeping it back from Noct’s face.

A kiss on his head when Noctis slumps against him, all gangly limbs and creaking voice, an arm slung over his shoulders to keep him anchored against the stray spark of magic wrapping his limbs in a partial warp, keeping him close and whole until it settles.

A kiss against his mouth, the softest pressure, the sweetest touch, and breath leaves him in a rush.  He might say his name, he might ask a question, but then Noctis comes back for more and tells him to shut up and Ignis can’t help but oblige.

Teeth and tongue and lightning-laced intensity, thighs bracketing his hips and crushing him close and Ignis staggers back from the sudden weight attached to his front, hands finding purchase on thigh and ass to keep Noctis off the ground.

“Are you sure?”

“Of you, always.”

A thousand kisses and so many touches, too many to count and keep track of.  Each it’s own  _“I love you”, “I want you”, “I’m happy with you”, “I’m here, I’ve got you”._

Through love and loss and peace and war, a constant presence, a steadfast bond, a guiding light in the darkness.  And when the sun rises again after so long gone, Ignis dips down for a kiss once more.  This one to say “hello”, this one a silent “welcome home”.


End file.
